


An Unnamed Secret Taking Shape

by Jam Blute (CrookedCompass)



Series: Ferdibert: Two Idiots in Love [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bottom Hubert von Vestra, Casual Sex, Demisexual Hubert von Vestra, Denial of Feelings, Ferdibert Birthday Bash (Fire Emblem), Ferdinand von Aegir & Dorothea Arnault are Best Friends, Ferdinand von Aegir Being an Idiot, Hubert von Vestra being an Idiot, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Only It's Actually Serious and They're Both Stupid, POV Hubert von Vestra, Pining, Protective Hubert von Vestra, Secret Crush, Top Ferdinand von Aegir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23923885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrookedCompass/pseuds/Jam%20Blute
Summary: Hubert and Ferdinand have their secret arrangement to diffuse tension that arises from their arguments. It works for them. There are no feelings attached, of course. Certainly neither of them are starting to get attached to one another and if they were, they would never persistently avoid that discovery. (Happy birthday, Ferdinand, have a stupid pining Hubert who doesn't know how to express his feelings!)
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Ferdibert: Two Idiots in Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724545
Comments: 54
Kudos: 163





	1. Denial

Just as this reckless impulse between him and Ferdinand began out of nowhere, finer details of their arrangements developed seemingly overnight. Bitter arguments still framed their conversations, and the two continued to constantly push one another. The difference was that the frequent and strained confrontations had lit a kind of physical attraction to one another since that first night in the closet, and it could not be put out.

And so, they created a system. Hubert or Ferdinand would propose a meeting under an innocuous guise—to discuss Imperial matters, review notes from class, anything. It hardly mattered, as the other would inevitably accept with obligatory reluctance. And then, when the day was out and most people had retired to their rooms, one would await the other in the recessed hallway by the greenhouse. More accurately, the groundskeeping storage room within that passageway that was safe from passersby. Even Cyril had to sleep eventually.

They had their trysts in other places on more daring or impatient nights. Hubert’s heart beat somewhat faster at the thought of an old heated argument in the corner of the library, all harsh whispers and hissed accusations, that turned heated in a rather different way. This naturally led to another memory of not quite making it the distance to the greenhouse and instead ducking into the stables.

The smell of hay still caused a stutter in Hubert’s ability to focus even now, weeks later. It was fortunate he rarely had a reason to be by the stables. How Ferdinand separated the memory from the scent when he was constantly tending to his horse to the point of spoiling him, Hubert had not the slightest idea.

It was as mysterious to him as the desires that their meetings brought out in Hubert. Before this, no one caught his attention beyond a basic aesthetic appeal. He could assess which of his peers were attractive and which were not the way a merchant might evaluate suitable wares. He did not once have a secret encounter in the closets of Enbarr (of a romantic nature, in any case). Neither was he overcome with a need so all-encompassing that he, for example, purchased exotic candles from the East and black silk sheets at no small expense to bring back to his quarters from a nearby town.

During his early teenage years, when nearly all others his age began taking notice of one another in a physical regard, Hubert remained unchanged. Research into the courting rituals of nobility and excruciatingly dull romance novels failed to convince him of the appeal of such endeavors. Therefore, he disregarded it without another thought.

In only a handful of months of merely existing near Hubert, Ferdinand turned that completely on its head. And yet it was the hidden depths of his mind, the ever-improving dedication of his spirit, that drew Hubert in before he was aware of it. Only then did he see Ferdinand himself as physically beautiful, wishing to run a hand through his hair or claim a kiss as competitively as they approached all other matters.

Banishing that thought, Hubert finished lighting the final candle in the storage room and laid out the silken black bedsheet he carried from his room to their regular meeting place. The firelight played off it nicely and Hubert longed to see familiar orange locks against the stark abyss of the sheet.

Once again, Hubert cut that visual off there. He would not put himself at a disadvantage by letting his mind wander more than it already had before Ferdinand even arrived. These meetings were as much a means to challenge one another as their arguments were.

The door opened and whispered closed, a wave of richly copper hair swirling as Ferdinand locked the door behind him. That particular habit took some training for him to integrate into his routine, but he needed no further reminders at this point. Glancing his way, Hubert opted for another one in its stead.

“The usual agreement?”

“Sworn to secrecy, yes,” Ferdinand answered wearily, his good-natured smile betraying him. His hair was brushing his shoulders now, only serving to frame his greatest features. When Hubert first realized he was growing it out, he let that observation slip and sent the entire Black Eagles classroom into a state of chaos with the praise. Thankfully, the professor calmed them down to begin the lesson shortly thereafter—although Ferdinand remained lit up as if he were the sun itself. “You needn’t remind me every time.”

“I feel I must, or you may forget to keep your mouth shut. I am well aware of how you love to gossip over tea with Dorothea.”

At least Lorenz had the good sense to find rumors simply tolerable out of his fondness for Ferdinand, but Dorothea was a wellspring of hearsay. A word shared with her was likely to reach the opposite side of the monastery before the initial conversation was at its end.

Sauntering over to Hubert, Ferdinand reached out to brush his hand against Hubert’s cheek, coming to rest on the side of his neck. Such familiarity always caused an internal upset, a mercurial tightness in his chest, but—well, he had been trained by Ferdinand in turn not to draw back from unexpectedly tender contact. After a light kiss that barely counted as one, Ferdinand still held his hand in place.

“Please, you know I am true to my word.”

“But of course, it’s only noble,” he intended that as a jab, aiming for a sneer and landing somewhere closer to a smirk.

“Not that you would understand what that means.” His attention drifted to the candles, robbing his words of their normal teasing edge. Hubert watched him for any indication of if they were appreciated or perhaps too much, even for Ferdinand. For purely practical reasons, of course. The candles were a costly indulgence, and he would be irritated if that expense did not yield the desired results.

A softer quality to his smile that gradually carried over to his eyes signaled that the loss of gold had indeed, been worth it.

“Oh? Do you really think you are in any position to instruct me?” Suddenly more aware of their closeness, Hubert slipped his hands into the curled hair at the base of Ferdinand’s neck and noted the subtle flutter of his eyelashes he tried and failed to conceal. “That is not how I remember our last meeting.”

“Well, that was—” Hubert tugged on his longer hair just so to earn a soft moan and fully intended to take advantage of his mouth being open.

Pausing just before claiming the kiss, he whispered, “Is that cologne?”

There was a delay as Ferdinand returned to himself with a characteristic flush across his cheeks. Honestly, the sheer range of his expressions and all possible combinations they presented overwhelmed Hubert at times.

“Yes, it is!” That hopeful glance conveyed his near-limitless confidence that hinged on his craving for approval, as if proving that Ferdinand had more emotional capacity in his little finger than Hubert had in his entire being. Was it any wonder he struggled to guard his feelings? Radiant amber eyes sought out his own dulled out green and for a split second, Hubert questioned what his purpose was here. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” he acknowledged, burying that doubt somewhere it would never see the candlelit room again if Hubert’s resolve had any sway over it. “I would expect no less from someone of your refined tastes.”

His mind, treacherous at it was, drew the doubt up again swiftly and suggested an alternative: the cologne was presented to Ferdinand by a noble lady in attendance at Garreg Mach seeking him as a romantic partner. The fact that he wore it here and now was purely circumstantial. Hubert forced it down again, swallowing the acrid bitterness as it threatened to burn through his core. Still, he stepped back from where he’d almost kissed Ferdinand and crossed his arms.

“Or was it a gift? There are certainly enough women chasing after your political ties under the guise of romantic interests.”

“Ah, no. I bought it myself, actually. It reminded me of—” Averting his gaze to a dark corner of the storage room, Ferdinand trailed off into a discontented hum. “Never mind.”

It pained Hubert to see Ferdinand withdraw in such a way when he knew the Prime Minister’s son was capable of so much more than he originally appeared to. Or even believed he could, on some occasions. The urge to encourage him was intense and unyielding, and so, Hubert always succumbed to it almost reflexively.

“Cinnamon.”

“Hm?”

“There are notes of cinnamon in the cologne. Mixed with hints of honey and a somewhat herbal or floral aroma, and some vanilla as well if I’m not mistaken.” Hubert got him to look up with that answer, just as planned. A Vestra always achieved the best results in the end.

Encouraged by that victory, Hubert found himself pulled in by the gravity of Ferdinand once more. Lingering with his head rested in the crook of Ferdinand’s neck, he breathed in the very fragrances he listed and caught the unmistakable scent of saddle leather and tea leaves indicative of Ferdinand.

“A layer of musk prevents the scent from being too sweet to endure.”

“As astute as ever, Hubert,” Ferdinand praised, an airy laugh chasing the sentiment. He snuck in a kiss to Hubert’s neck, then his cheekbone. His hands traced up to hover over Hubert’s hips, taunting and cruel for their lightness. “In short, its fragrance closely matches one of select few teas you enjoy when we share afternoon tea.”

Hubert moved only his eyes to examine Ferdinand at that revelation. Was he paying that much attention? Hubert searched his mind for an answer and came up with a paltry excuse for one.

“I suppose it does.”

And now there will be another aroma that Hubert connects to these moments. Damn Ferdinand. He needed to find solid ground in this conversation again and words could not be trusted to see that task through.

Guiding Ferdinand to the ideal angle with a hand, Hubert claimed the kiss he wanted at the start. They had both improved considerably since their first clumsy encounter, and their tongues entwined now with only as much mess as was arousing.

“W-wait a moment, Hubert,” he requested. Hubert obliged, resigned to the possibility that this may become another night where they simply kissed and discussed whatever came to mind. For Ferdinand, primarily.

“Was that all you had to say? I deliberated for a great while over this purchase, I will have you know.” Ferdinand held his gaze and his hips, perhaps willfully unaware of the hazardous thrill that mixture stirred in Hubert. “I deferred to both Lorenz and Dorothea before making a final decision!”

“Is that so?” He chuckled, placing his hands over Ferdinand’s in an unspoken ploy to move them off his person if they were here only to talk of trending fragrances. “Lorenz _and_ Dorothea, was it? And what excuse did you give them for laboring so arduously over a bottle of cologne?”

“Please do not change the subject.” Bashful scolding depicted by a dash of color to his cheeks and a steadfast frown, another Ferdinand specialty. “I simply want to know if you enjoy it enough that I should wear it again.”

Hubert’s blackened heart tumbled right into his stomach at the insinuation of that demand. Ferdinand purchased cologne that brought Hubert to mind, one he agonized over purchasing, and now would only wear again if Hubert said _aloud_ that he wished for it. If he permitted his true feelings on it to leave his mouth—he could wear it every day if that made Ferdinand happy, and Hubert would be satisfied with that knowledge—there was no telling the risks that came with such honesty. No vulnerability as severe as that was ever answered with kindness in the end.

“Do forgive me,” his mocking tone came too naturally, the shattered part of him that still longed to believe in _happiness_ screaming at him in futility to stop. “I did not realize you came here in the dead of night simply to seek my advice on fashion.”

“Of course I did not, I—Is that a silk sheet? Sourced from Almyra, if I have identified it correctly.” His eyes flickered down, brightening in eager interest as they met Hubert’s once more. More than he ever wanted to, he now knew what it felt like to be a pinned insect on display for what he was. The anxiety it brought him blended with an ease so acute, it could only be called relief. Ferdinand, of course, was oblivious to the storm he caused by offering an oasis of understanding Hubert so rarely encountered. And worse, Hubert _trusted_ it from him.

“Hubert, where—wait, did you get here early to arrange this?”

And how would he answer that? The darkness hopefully concealed the warmth on his face countering the chill running down his spine. That sincerity in Ferdinand’s expression, laid bare and seemingly infinite… Hubert could not resist it however he tried. When he first told him that his discipline outstripped Ferdinand’s own, Hubert was lying and did not even know it.

How many times must one be burned by belief in others to learn?

_Once more. Surely, I can endure one more betrayal if it could lead to—_

“If it’s not to your noble standards, I can take you against the bare floor instead.” Knowing the effect such lewd comments had on Ferdinand, particularly in the low rasp he delivered it with, Hubert stalled for the opportunity to re-center. He met little success.

“Ah, no, I—I appreciate the attention to detail.” His gaze lingered on the candles, an uplifted grin blooming across his face. Was it possible that the vivacious Ferdinand von Aegir had gone through his sheltered noble upbringing without feeling truly loved? The notion would have made him laugh sharply as recently as the Great Tree Moon, but now it twisted a hot dagger of spite in his gut. Hubert did not need more reasons to loathe Ludwig von Aegir, and yet the blundering ‘noble’ had unwittingly offered another for the list to support his eventual condemnation.

His first order of business was to forever exile that uncertainty from Ferdinand’s heart and mind. And should it return, Hubert would be waiting to chase it off as often as was needed.

“Having a keen eye is part of my duty.”

The effect of his efforts changed—something. Every gesture, from Ferdinand’s attentive undoing of his blazer to Hubert’s exploration of whatever parts of his l—Ferdinand that he could touch, everything carried with it a softer longing. The nuance of Ferdinand’s lust was intoxicating, a fast-acting poison that Hubert never gained resistance to no matter how often he was exposed to it.

“Indeed! Edelgard is truly fortunate that fate decided to grant her so capable a pet,” he said it almost as a compliment, but certainly as a playful challenge. Hubert rewarded him with a short laugh and a quick nip above his collar, earning a tremble from Ferdinand. Against all better judgment, he hoped that it might leave a mark.

“Feisty tonight, are we? Let’s see if we can’t address that.”

“You can certainly try.”

They met in a kiss once more, dissipating any darker thoughts Hubert harbored as they vied for control as always. Emboldened by the earlier display, perhaps, Ferdinand nipped at Hubert’s lip and elicited a shuddering moan from him.

Pulling apart, breathless, their foreheads rested together instead. The sensation was so tender and sweet, Hubert could not recall a time he last felt it so wholly. Yet he dared not put an end to it. On the contrary, he basked in the glow of it, hoping to capture the light contained therein to savor another time.

_Nothing this good could ever last._

His skin was alight with anticipation as calloused fingers slid under his unbuttoned shirt. How that came to pass, he somehow could not remember. Ferdinand’s leg pushed between Hubert’s as well, a welcome weight against the warmth building there.

“Quite an underhanded tactic, Ferdinand. Perhaps—ah—you are learning from me after all.”

Ferdinand smirked, pleased at the commendation or the brief lapse in his sentence. In all probability, it was both.

“I understand if you give in already, Hubert. It is the only strategic choice.”

With a sinister chuckle as promise of what was yet to come, Hubert began undressing Ferdinand so they would be equally exposed. “Hardly.”

* * *

The passage of time seemed an insult when it meant an end to _this_.

Ferdinand thrust into him, syncing that with his hand on Hubert’s shaft. Fragmented sighs cascaded from Hubert, unrestrained and unrecognizable as his own, but there could not be enough as they blended with Ferdinand’s wanton moans and fount of praises. Hubert had been called beautiful with every possible synonym during this, more than he had ever been in his entire life. As scattered as his mind was, Hubert could not be distracted from the treasure of a man before him. One of his hands refused to leave Ferdinand’s hair, combing through or gripping in blissful pleasure, while the other busied itself with the expanses of freckled skin so available to Hubert.

“I take it—” Cut off by an unsteady moan as Hubert squeezed his rear, Ferdinand continued regardless. “You are enjoying yourself, Hubert?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he confessed, voice low and yearning.

“I… I have never seen you so—” He rolled his words into a moan as Hubert leaned close to trace the shell of his ear expertly with his tongue. Practice had taught him exactly which actions caused Ferdinand to melt, and Hubert made it a point to improve with every meeting. He wanted to undo his prideful noble bearing, ruin him until he was all desperate clawing and chanting Hubert’s name as a mantra for a change. Particularly when he was making observations Hubert did not want to hear out loud.

“What was that, Ferdinand?” He muttered at the base of his neck and reveled in the resulting shiver. The waver it caused in his thrusting added an element of unpredictability that Hubert could not say he objected to either.

“You are—insufferable. And impolite.” That sentence was breathed more than said, and he captured Hubert’s mouth rather than bothering to try again. He was too late to stop himself moving into the touch, pressing against him on instinct. Ferdinand laughed and just as he was about to bristle at it, Ferdinand placed an affectionate kiss on his cheek. “Yet you are so unfairly captivating.”

Hubert held his silence, aside from pleasured hums, powerless against the warm pressure within him paired with Ferdinand backlit by an aura of wavering candlelight.

“So you keep telling me.” Hubert needed more, but he would sooner bite his own tongue off than beg for it. Though, perhaps someday… He almost laughed at himself too, fantasizing about the act even mid-act. There was much more he could stand to learn about himself, apparently.

“And yet you do not seem to believe me,” Ferdinand correctly ascertained. “This leaves me no choice: I must show you the truth of how I feel on the matter in a way you cannot rationalize away.”

“What do—ah!” Hubert only barely managed to keep track of his own descent to laying back on the sheet, his legs wrapped around Ferdinand’s hips of their own accord. The deliciously punishing pace of his thrusts with his hand moving on him had Hubert digging his nails into Ferdinand’s thighs, biting down on his own lip in a poor attempt to hold himself back.

“I—I am— _Hubert_ —”

“Do it,” Hubert meant to command him, but the words fell from his mouth desperate and aching with sheer want.

Ferdinand tensed and shook through his orgasm, gasping his name into his neck as he dragged Hubert over his edge with him.

* * *

They sat together, Ferdinand curled against Hubert’s chest and drawing idle circles there while Hubert combed through Ferdinand’s hair with his fingers, gloves long gone. Dark magic already tinged the tips of his fingers a faint grey, but they would only darken. He explained as much to Ferdinand when he first saw them ungloved a couple of late-night meetings ago and Hubert still felt the feather-light kisses on his hands even now.

“I wish you could have seen yourself,” Ferdinand spoke after a sated silence.

“I can assure you I would have hated that.”

“Impossible! The sight of your fair skin against this starless night beneath us,” he waxed poetic, a hand sweeping in front of them as if they could see a sky above through the ceiling, “Truly, I find myself at a loss as to whether you got this sheet for me or for yourself.”

“Myself, of course,” Hubert replied, suddenly self-conscious about the impulse purchase, of all foolish things he’d done so far. Their needless nudity was apparently not a point of embarrassment next to that. “It was far too expensive to even consider another’s interest in it.”

“That is understandable. It would only be practical to—wait, it was expensive, you say?” Ferdinand sat up, turning a bewildered pout on Hubert. “But you are usually so frugal unless the matter is of utmost importance to you. As this must be, then?”

_Dammit._

Hubert simply sat up as well to claim another kiss, lazy as it was. They lacked time for another round, and this was only meant to distract him besides. The smile against his lips immediately revealed that the diversion was not as effective as Hubert had aspired to.

“I shall take that as a yes.”

Turning away with a sigh, Hubert reached for his pants. The evening would eventually turn to morning if they were not careful. While Hubert could function in that state, Ferdinand was not so resilient when it came to lack of rest.

“Do you take joy in not knowing when to be quiet?”

“The ideal timing of silence is a matter of opinion, Hubert,” he teased back, gathering his own clothes with no heed for what a temptation he was wandering about in the nude as he went. They would be wise not to so recklessly discard their clothes in the future. “We can agree to disagree there as well.”

Ferdinand gave a wistful sigh, pulling his shirt over his head first. “What time is it?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. The watch is in my coat pocket,” he offered, pointing to the garment over a crate in the storage room before putting his own shirt on. The first garment removed was fortunate to be placed somewhere orderly.

“Ah, thank you!” Ferdinand walked to it pants-less, of course, with flickering candlelight dancing beyond him. If he had the endurance, the things he might do… But Ferdinand had the watch in hand and angled it toward the nearest candle to make out the time.

Chuckling, Hubert buttoned his shirt and made a note to himself to reinforce some of the buttons. “You certainly made yourself at home.”

“What, I can take it off you but not go into its pockets? Don’t be absurd, Hubie.” Hubert drew back at the nickname Dorothea had taken to using coming from Ferdinand, but he did not react to that in kind as he continued to examine the watch in the faint light. “Oh, we must go back to our rooms if we are rise at a decent hour.”

“Disappointed, Ferdinand?” He certainly sounded the part. Hubert joined him with a hand extended for his blazer, taunting smile at the ready. “You shall just have to imagine this evening to hold yourself off until I can find more free time to meet your needs.”

“Pardon? _My_ needs?” That summoned another blush to his cheeks, indignantly so. Securing his pocket watch in his closed hand, Ferdinand rounded on Hubert to launch into part of a lecture. “I recall clearly that you arranged this night, Hubert.”

“Yes. This one, my second, and the remaining are yours.” He leaned down to kiss the frown from Ferdinand’s lips before the realization hit him for how needlessly affectionate that was. Apprehension crept in on the desire for that to be an acceptable gesture, or even encouraged, and Hubert masked both with more mockery. “Your need for me is painfully apparent.”

“Now who cannot manage to keep quiet?” He pushed the blazer into his hands with a huff, marching off to dress himself too, but oh, that blush was a sight. If anything would make Hubert a devout believer in the goddess and her wish for humanity to be happy, it would be the sight of Ferdinand von Aegir with a post-coital pout as the candles burned down.

He put his arms through the sleeves of his blazer, latching it closed without giving that more thought.

“Oh, my apologies! Your watch,” Ferdinand realized, presenting it to him with his pants over one arm.

Without hesitation or any thought whatsoever, Hubert answered, “Keep it. I have another timepiece in my room, and I can simply get that one from you next time.”

“N-next time—oh, yes, of course. If you are certain.”

In a cross of optimism and timidity, Ferdinand smiled and ducked his head as he buttoned his pants. Was he touched? Offended? Hubert had no way of knowing and that should have alarmed him far more than the distant ripple of dread he felt.

“I am,” he confirmed.

What was he doing? How would Ferdinand explain having a watch from Hubert that he would no doubt be flaunting about? More pressingly, how would Hubert explain? That would be his to figure out when the time came, he supposed. He folded the silk sheet up as Ferdinand finished dressing, tucking it beneath his arm. He had no idea what he was thinking with the candles before. They were too warm to move once they were freshly blown out and would remain behind as evidence of their presence. “Are you finished, Ferdinand?”

“Very nearly, just—a moment.” His back was turned to Hubert in a sad effort to shield him from seeing that Ferdinand struggled with that damn cravat he so cherished.

“Oh, come here.” Despite the instructions, Hubert strode to Ferdinand so all he had to do was face him in the end. Deftly putting the cravat on Ferdinand, the domesticity of the act struck him at the same time as the feeling of his eyes on Hubert.

“There,” he affirmed, smoothing the cravat in an entirely unnecessary gesture that had more to do with a final brush of intimate contact than true need. Given his desperation, perhaps Hubert did need it—a sign they should end their agreement. Still, he said nothing of the sort. “You are hopeless.”

“I am used to more lighting when dressing,” he defended himself indignantly, blowing out the final candle and following Hubert through the open doorway towards the greenhouse hallway. Their bedrooms were only a door apart and so, they would be headed in the same direction from there. Thankfully, no one else would be out at this hour to stop them and talk or Hubert would have to justify the sheet. “We cannot all be perfectly accustomed to the dark.”

“How fortunate you have me, then.”

“Y-yes. Indeed.”

The remainder of their trip to the nobility quarters was silent with only stolen glances between them until Hubert paused at his own door.

“Ferdinand,” he said in hardly more than a whisper.

“Hubert?” His voice was quiet, tinted with hope, every piece of Ferdinand shining through it even with hushed tones in the fading dark of night.

“Rest well.”

He could feel his smile in the shadows, tugging at him in ways he could not possibly want as much as he knew he did. He tightened his grip on the sheet in his arm and clenched his jaw to contain that weakness threatening to break free.

“Sweet dreams, Hubert,” he replied, and Hubert stepped into his room without a response—the door held slightly ajar until he heard Ferdinand safely close his own.

Hubert finished preparing his bed with a fresh sheet to retire for the evening. A single, enduring mantra ran through his mind: this was a mutual arrangement to satiate their base urges. Nothing more. He would not dream of smiles in the night and the fluttering feeling in his chest at ‘Hubie’ and even if he did, those dreams would not be considered sweet but a lust-driven nightmare. The alternative was far too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got a comment you want to share, please do! I live for that, not gonna lie.
> 
> A [lovely follower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippingthefinalfrontier/) of my stories shared this song, [Illicit Affairs by Taylor S.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLV2SJKWk4M), as one that resonated with this story and I just had to share it! It's a really good fit, so I suggest giving it a listen!


	2. Only a Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert gets poisoned on a weekly mission, of all the absurd things to happen. Ferdinand makes it all too obvious how concerned he is. The Black Eagles see it all, but they aren't calling anyone out (yet).
> 
> **There are spoiler mentions in this chapter, heads up.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spice this chapter or next, but it'll be back in four and especially five (and others, of course). For now, we have fluff!

Ridiculous. Hubert grimaced, shuffling towards the Black Eagles classroom rather than carrying himself with his usual intent stride. To be poisoned by a mere bandit on a weekly assignment despite his various immunities… What an embarrassment. The effects had long since passed, but they did their damage nonetheless. Hubert was exhausted in a way not even black coffee could counter. It wouldn’t prevent the completion of his duties, but the results were substantial enough to slow him down. The only aspect to be grateful for was that Lady Edelgard was assigned to the search for Flayn, so she did not witness his blunder.

Ferdinand too, he supposed.

He was not expecting every Black Eagle student to also be in their classroom, given that class was not in session, but he realized his mistake once he set foot inside and garnered the attention of his peers.

“Hubert,” Edelgard greeted, a soft smile coming to her face as she nodded in greeting. “I see you’ve recovered from the poison.”

Damn the professor. Hubert frowned, filing that breach of his privacy away to be discussed with Byleth later.

“Hubert!” Between his weakened condition and that distraction, Hubert was defenseless against the sudden hug from Ferdinand. He put one arm around him reflexively, a treacherous impulse. One he might not have if not for their clandestine meetings (or if they were not too preoccupied with the search these days to have them).

Oblivious to that and the grinning classmates behind him, Ferdinand continued on. “The professor said you were poisoned, so I was—well, we all were concerned.” Stepping back at last but keeping his hands on Hubert’s shoulders, Ferdinand gave him an assessing once-over that did not help matters in the slightest. It was rare that Hubert was unsettled by someone else, but here they were, with Ferdinand tactlessly chatting away about his feelings for the world to see after having just hugged him. Meanwhile, Hubert was certain he looked as if he might perish on the spot for reasons thoroughly unrelated to poison.

“I am so relieved to see you are well enough to be up!” At such a volume and with his characteristic enthusiasm, it was almost guaranteed that the neighboring class could hear him. “I was distraught at the thought that you were seriously injured. With the search for poor Flayn still ongoing, I couldn’t bear more tragic news.”

“Ferdinand,” Hubert found his words again at last, the encroaching discomfort in his tone finally connecting the dots for his classmate (and not-so-subtle lover, as everyone in the room was likely starting to suspect).

Ferdinand recoiled as if Hubert were made of poison himself, his face flushing immediately as he fumbled to find a place for his hands to settle. If they were suspicious of the true nature of their connection before, they need only look at Ferdinand now to confirm it.

“Ah, I was too forward. Please, pardon my invasion of your personal space.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Hubert replied honestly, if awkwardly, moving to stand nearer to Edelgard for the sake of distance from Ferdinand. He could salvage this. Ferdinand was always intense in his emotions and fond of nearly everyone he met. If Hubert kept his calm exterior intact, perhaps Ferdinand’s reaction could be dismissed. Looking at him once again, Hubert had to admit to himself that that was a fruitless endeavor. “It is natural for an ally to be concerned.”

“Is it?” Petra asked, a teasing glint in her eye that would spread like wildfire in the present company. As her gaze wandered by their peers, Hubert could practically sense the bad idea traveling between them. “Should we all be hugging you, then, Hubert?”

“Please don’t.”

Caspar laughed, all but leaping from his seat beside an unsurprisingly groggy Linhardt to rush Hubert. “Group hug for Hubert!”

They needed no more notice than that. Every Black Eagle closed in on him, except for Linhardt drowsily watching. Bernadetta did hesitate, but tentatively joined as the final addition all the same. He could barely see her past the others crushing around him and he sighed in resignation. Caspar, Edelgard, and Ferdinand were closest to him, hugging him tightly and sharing light-hearted laughter. Petra, Dorothea, and Bernadetta comprised the outer layer, and if nothing else, he was pleased to see they were smiling as well. He and Edelgard knew of Flayn’s condition, or at least they were closer to it than anyone else present, but the rest could use this chance to de-stress. What more could he do until they got this out of their system?

“Affection is shown to accelerate healing, Hubert.” Linhardt unhelpfully noted from his napping position at one of the long tables arranged in their classroom.

“Then I must be completely recovered. Now all I need is my personal space,” he deadpanned, allowing the hug to continue regardless. Unexpectedly, their presence was only becoming less of an imposition the longer they remained, but Hubert would sooner be poisoned a second time before admitting to that.

In the chaos of layered hugs, Hubert felt a hand reaching for his. He did not even have to look to know who it was, but he did glance to Ferdinand to see the hopeful smile he anticipated. Interlacing their fingers with a twisting sensation dangerously close to delight, Hubert permitted that as well. Perhaps ‘encouraged’ was the more suitable term.

“Oh, Hubie, you can’t fool us. You’re loving every minute of this.” Dorothea teased him next, winking over Caspar’s head.

“Tolerating, you mean.”

“From you? That’s basically the same thing.” Caspar remarked, muffled for being close to the center and the second shortest person in their class. One might mistake that for a weakness until they got within brawling range of him.

“He’s not wrong.” Edelgard agreed, a bright levity to her voice he had not heard for a long time. As if he needed another influence to push him towards complacency in the face of their affections. Hubert did not like being fussed over or looked after, but… Each of the Black Eagles had been denied a content, prosperous childhood due to the moral corruption within their society. If standing at the center of a group hug gave them a sense of the carefree days they should have had as well as some enjoyment, Hubert could only comply.

He did not have to acknowledge their observations that it was not as much of a burden on Hubert as he made it out to be. And if he happened to take pleasure in holding Ferdinand’s hand as publicly as he dared, there was no reason to disclose that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! I cherish them all and they inspire me to keep writing, so share away.
> 
> You can [follow me on Tumblr](https://jamblute.tumblr.com/) or [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/jamblute/) for more of my works and just things I like to share and chat about in general.


	3. The Bitter Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert was never one to be direct, no matter how incisive he could be, and jealousy over people getting close to Ferdinand was no exception. The real trouble is that he isn't particularly kind when he's confronted about it by Ferdinand.

Marching up to Hubert in their classroom, Ferdinand wore a stern scowl he must’ve rehearsed. Hubert considered not looking up fully and continuing his work—there was much to be done for Lady Edelgard after that incident in Remire—but ultimately, he decided it was worth at least sifting through Ferdinand’s wordy tirade for the source of his concerns. Perhaps it was something he could assist with in what time he had outside of his prior commitments.

“Hubert,” he snipped, hands firmly planted on his hips. “The lovely young woman who spoke to me quite often at the dining hall has suddenly begun to avoid me. Would you have anything to do with that?”

Ah, that. He’d noticed certain types of people taking an interest in the up-and-coming son of the Prime Minister, and their advances were undoubtedly deceitful. As trusting and optimistic as Ferdinand was, he could scarcely be expected to safeguard himself reliably. Smirking at him, Hubert dismissed it all the same.

“Why would I? She is no one you or I should waste our time on. I suggest you dedicate your attention to a matter more worthwhile.”

“I knew it!” Ferdinand chastised him, indignant and validated in an instant. Crossing his arms and pointing his fiercest glare at him, he demonstrated the makings of a better minister than his father had even bothered dreaming to be. “Hubert, she was only being friendly!”

“Nonsense. She was making _advances_ on you, Ferdinand.” Splaying his fingers out on the page before him like it contained the indisputable evidence of that conclusion, Hubert explained regardless. “Her house is in on the precipice of social ruin, and she is seeking to salvage it using your station.”

“You do not know that!” Throwing his hands up, Ferdinand’s noble decorum slipped. Hubert only chuckled sardonically in response and fueled his impatience further.

“I do, and you were wasting your time on her.”

And that was the final straw. The fury of the sun itself during the Blue Sea Moon flared in Ferdinand’s eyes, and he remained truly lovely through it. Not a thought to be shared. “I cannot stand another second with you when you are like this.”

With a dignified huff to recover some of his composure, Ferdinand marched off. Most likely to the stables, where he often ventured to cool his heels. Hubert knew their relationship was not exclusive or even a relationship in the official sense. The future Prime Minister of Adrestia was free to give his heart to those he loved most, even if Hubert would never count among them. With a heavy swallow, Hubert returned his attention to his book futilely.

It was better that they did not get attached. Ferdinand may not even choose the Empire’s side, given how tightly he held to that one-sided rivalry. But if he did take the right course, he would need to be unburdened by a disloyal fiancé.

* * *

“Hubert, I demand you stop this!”

“I will need to know what to stop before I can reject or agree to this demand.” The innocent act did not suit Hubert, but he sincerely had no notion of what could bring Ferdinand up to him so thoroughly cross before the day truly began. Other Black Eagles waited inside the classroom, but Ferdinand firmly planted himself in Hubert’s path to prevent either of them from joining. Given how his lecturing tone tended to carry, he wasn’t entirely sure what the point of that display might have been. It certainly wasn’t for privacy’s sake.

Beyond that, there were far too many options to consider for what Hubert might have done that his peer would prefer he hadn’t. Most were deeds he would never turn back on. But in the event that Hubert could comply, it might be nice to be agreeable for a change. Merely to see how Ferdinand would react.

“A classmate of mine from the equestrian club has suddenly stopped speaking to me after being pleasant and companionable for weeks. We are _friends_ , Hubert!”

Oh. That duplicitous wretch. Even as Hubert saw the intellect and insight Ferdinand concealed with his noble-inspired bluster, he had to wonder if he ever considered applying it to the company he chose to keep. With a slow blink and a long sigh, Hubert attempted to lead him away from the subject. “And what would that have to do with—"

Ferdinand interrupted him with a sharp jab to his chest that matched his unusually stern air. “Oh, _enough_. You cannot pull strings from the shadows and then play the fool.”

The snicker from within the classroom nearly synchronized with Hubert’s glare. Any act he carried out in secret was for the benefit of Lady Edelgard and her allies. Although Hubert didn’t require appreciation for it, he did prefer not to have it weaponized against him. Even if Hubert hadn’t scared his so-called friend off for his own safety, the possibility that Ferdinand would still choose to harbor low thoughts of him was only too real.

“Stop meddling in my affairs this instant. And whatever you said or did to him, reverse it.”

Tacking on a sly smirk and purposefully looking down on him by tilting his head back, Hubert gave the sole answer he would ever offer in cases such as these. “No.”

“Ugh, you are impossible! You insist on policing who I associate with, _my_ romantic prospects,” Ferdinand blurted out and flushed, whether from rage or embarrassment or a concoction of the two. It was difficult to say. Frustratingly so, and Hubert’s smirk fell back to a frown. “But you will not act on anything yourself!”

“And what do you mean by that?” Hubert’s mind could and did provide potential scenarios. Several of them were dead ends, hopeless grasping at anything that might provide an alternative to the most logical conclusion: that Ferdinand wished Hubert, _Hubert_ , was courting him in their stead. That there was substance to their nightly meetings that transferred to daylight.

The sensation of blood thundering in his ears as his heart endeavored to evacuate through his stomach was not unfamiliar, exactly. It crept up on him with a piercing chill whenever he approached the edge of the bridge connecting the main monastery grounds to the place of worship itself. When haunting images of all that occurred with the Insurrection manifested in his dreams, it permeated the morning like a haze. But in the present, it washed over Hubert and pulled him under like an angry wave. Whenever he tried to surface, another vicious onslaught was right behind.

Ferdinand scoffed, too lost in his rage to sense the shift in Hubert. It was subtle, of course. A pinpoint of dread in his eyes sensed by a select few. A distinct tension in his shoulders and posture. Intentionally made almost undetectable, these slight cues failed Ferdinand and Hubert alike.

“Very well, I will spell it out for you.” He stepped forward into Hubert’s space, his fury radiating from him as though it were a tangible heat. “If you are going to be consumed with jealousy by people who have the courage to make their feelings known, you might consider doing so yourself to prevent their advances by normal means. Not blackmail, not overt intimidation, but simply—”

The forced, sharp laugh that cut into his words was horrifically comfortable. Hubert knew it well. When a simpering noble hounded Lady Edelgard with their vain requests one time too many, he followed them to their most vulnerable moment and shredded them apart and took joy in it with that scathing laughter.

“Is that what you believe?”

More than ever since arriving at Garreg Mach, Hubert felt his childhood self prying at the cage he’d been left in. Hope and wanting had no place in the heart of Lady Edelgard’s vassal and guardian. But in the moment, the roiling panic that laid even deeper than the restless waves of fear gripped him: he was ruining this one beautiful indulgence personally. This divide between them could not be blamed on his treacherous father or the greedy Lord Arundel, not even the wicked Church or the failings of the society they developed. This was Hubert and Hubert alone, and he was revolted that he could not even bring himself to stop no matter how he wished to.

Instead, he widened his sinister sneer and pressed on as easily as one might sip at morning coffee. “If you are so desperate for my attention that you must conjure romantic delusions, I must wonder which of us should be found lacking.”

His cutting words found their home almost immediately, as Hubert’s heart plunged even further into the depths. Ferdinand’s sternness dissolved into shock as the pointed brutality of his answer registered. Compared to how his eyes gleamed in the candlelight of their secret retreat in a groundskeeping closet, the glistening of tears gathering in Ferdinand’s eyes seemed entirely _wrong_.

“You are cruel, Hubert.”

Ferdinand shouldered past him to the isolated gardens beyond the house classrooms, overlooking the various sheer cliffs surrounding the monastery. He couldn’t very well see where he was going with his arm over his eyes like it was… Hubert sighed, watching as he disappeared around a corner. Someone ought to follow him. See to it that he wasn’t late for class. Ideally, someone who would not ask Hubert questions as to why he was driven to tears. Caspar or Bernadetta, perhaps, who could feasibly be dissuaded.

“You ass.”

Dorothea, of all people, managed to surprise him in her approach. “Dorothea—”

“No,” she insisted, guiding him to turn and face her with a firm hand on his arm. “Not everyone is out to wound you, you know. So you listen to me, because I will not repeat—”

Lorenz, at least, did not get the privilege of sneaking up on him. She saw the recognition in Hubert’s eyes as the other preening noble of Garreg Mach strode purposefully across the stone path beside manicured grass to the two of them. Pressing the fingertips of a bare hand to his chest next to that blasted rose, he began what could devolve into a wandering speech if he was not discouraged.

“I am gracious by disposition, as you surely know, so I will permit you an exceedingly generous ten seconds to explain why Ferdinand, my dearest companion, rushed from here in tears.”

“Oh, Lorenz, I am so glad you’re here! What this needs is a noble touch,” Dorothea issued what was not typically a compliment from her, seemingly heedless to Hubert’s disapproving stare. Perhaps her recent closeness with Ferdinand had changed her opinion of nobility. She had generally always been immune to even the fiercest of his scowls. “You see, Hubie was just on his way to apologize to our dear Ferdie for being abominably rude. Isn’t that right?”

Glancing from Dorothea’s smug smile to Lorenz’s condemning stare, then into the Black Eagles classroom to see expressions ranging from disappointed to displeased, Hubert conceded defeat. Not only could he not pass the task of speaking to Ferdinand onto any of them, he could not reasonably fend off all of them. All the more so once the professor arrived.

“ _Fine._ I will talk to him.”

“Yes, you will talk,” Dorothea instructed him like an ill-behaved schoolboy. A treatment he supposed he warranted. “Not ridicule or degrade or belittle him.”

“If you must be chaperoned, I will all too gladly monitor you for good behavior.” Lorenz drew himself up, a proud smile and aura coming far too easily to him for Hubert’s liking.

“I would sooner throw myself from the highest tower.”

He barely heard Lorenz’s aghast offense as he made his way towards Ferdinand’s retreat. Apologies did not play to his strengths, but Hubert would need to find a solution before he reached his destination. Dorothea would be prepared to mete out her own punishment if Ferdinand returned as anything but his usually sunny self, no doubt. That did set the bar for success quite high, but Hubert had resolved far worse with considerably less. He would have to make do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if Hubert can't figure out how to get his foot out of his mouth... In the next chapter, of course.  
> 'Til then, I welcome comments! 🖤
> 
> You can also [follow me on Tumblr](https://jamblute.tumblr.com/) or [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/jamblute/) for more of my works and other fun things I enjoy!


	4. Beyond Compare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert issues his apology and in the process, finds himself taking strategic risks that might yield a more desirable outcome than the very public, quite hurtful arguments between himself and one Ferdinand von Aegir. Which is nothing more than a tactical decision to preserve their current arrangement. Of course.
> 
> Ferdinand has stipulations of his own, however.

Hubert came across Ferdinand sitting in the gardens surrounding the monastery graveyard, looking out past the headstones to the landscapes below. Birds fluttered by him as fuzzy, drifting honeybees paid him not the slightest attention. Ferdinand did have something of a natural energy to him that was only enhanced by the nearby greenery and associated fauna. He did not go terribly far to find his lush oasis, but he looked suitably morose as he glanced over his shoulder—and sharply away again at the discovery that it was Hubert descending the staircase towards him.

“Oh, why have you come to mar this scenery with your scowling? Haven’t you humiliated me enough?” He mustered a dignified air to serve as a front, Hubert would give him that. No doubt, countless other nobles and their various conceited contacts would be fooled into thinking merely his pride was slighted. But the two of them were far too familiar now for the ruse to be effective in Hubert’s company.

Not that his awareness negated years spent honing his legendarily critical outlook. The biting response of ‘you humiliated yourself’ appeared instantly and unbidden in his mind, but he at least had the good sense not to say it out loud. This time, in any case. Sighing as he stopped as near to Ferdinand as he dared to, Hubert took his first stab at a practice he was much less acquainted with.

“I’m here to—apologize.”

He didn’t need to lay eyes on Ferdinand to sense his gaze on him, however slight. A change in Ferdinand’s mood had developed into a conspicuous shift in climate as real and significant as the abrupt onset of a summer storm. If Hubert was to look at him, he was sure to witness the delicately hopeful look he often sported whenever his optimistic convictions briefly faltered.

A light breeze swept across the both of them, carrying a thin fragrance from the blossoms around them. It seemed well enough at home despite the tenuous subject that brought them together.

“I dislike public displays of any kind. In my distaste, I lashed out.” A summary of events, plain and simple and everything he was presumably aware of. As Hubert noted to himself earlier—they knew one another well. Clearing his throat, his own keen awareness settling uncomfortably on his skin like a damp cloak, Hubert forced himself to as much open honesty as he could. “You did not deserve that. I can think of no one who deserves it less, in fact. And so,” he transitioned with a small wave of his hand towards Ferdinand, “I ask that you forgive me for accusing you of being anything less than the exemplary student and ally you have often proven yourself to be.”

“Hubert,” Ferdinand exhaled, exasperated as he got to his feet and faced him at last. One step forward, one step back, and not any worthy progress made. He did expect as much on account of his notably short and largely unsuccessful history of expressing remorse. Hubert winced more from frustration than any other sentiment.

“Yes, Ferdinand?”

“If you cannot be honest with me here, with only the two of us,” he started, leaving an opening in that ‘if’ that he may not even be consciously aware of. Where there was a conditional element, there were multiple results. One of those outcomes was, at bare minimum, less objectionable than the other. That initial statement wasn’t brimming with hopeful potential, but Hubert could scarcely afford to be selective with his paths forward from here. “And you are deliberately cruel to me in public as you were today… What would you have me do? How would you advise Edelgard if someone were to treat her as you do me?”

Ferdinand stared at him, his brow furrowed and lips drawn into a stately pout most actors could only aspire to. He was nearly guaranteed to be prepared to pivot on Hubert’s reply. That knowledge merely doubled down on the pressure bearing down on his response.

“I—” Unfortunately, his considerable mental faculties seemed to flee from the prompt at hand. He had once been so eager to remind Ferdinand that he was beneath Edelgard, destined to be so whether he opted to serve her or foolishly tried to usurp her. At the moment, any effort to compare the two was an exercise in futility. He could sooner draw a sigil with no quill. Honesty had served him well thus far and so, he elected to define his obstacle to reaching a conclusion. “There can be no comparison.”

Ferdinand’s expression, once wounded, twisted bitterly into a scowl.

“I am aware I can never measure up to her in your eyes, but that was not the question,” he spat, articulating with sophisticated precision despite his irritation. His fists clenched as he squared his shoulders and Hubert could not determine on his life what had caused this interaction to turn so sour, so swiftly. “Forget that I asked. It has no relevance on your duty, so dismissing it from your thoughts should come easily to you.”

He stormed past Hubert again, this time in a stewing fury, marching towards the stairs leading back to the classrooms. Hubert did not think of Lorenz’s pretentious posturing over his childhood friendship with Ferdinand. He didn’t even consider Dorothea’s inevitable disapproval should their classmate return enraged. All he saw was the ability to resolve this peaceably falling out of his reach and knew he had to act if he had any hope to maintain even the barest relationship with Ferdinand. Hubert would be replaced by a suitable wife someday, and earlier still, Ferdinand could find a lover who reflected his ideals more closely. Yet he might persist as a close friend if he could only manage one successful apology before Ferdinand was allowed to leave in anger. An emotion known to settle in and become immovable.

“Ferdinand, wait.”

Immune to his words, Ferdinand continued. He was almost to the first step.

Protection from the shadows was far from new to Hubert. Indeed, it was the only way to safeguard several people, Bernadetta included. But the simple concept of a future darkened by Ferdinand’s hatred inspired him to act in the present with one final attempt to spare himself. He caught up quickly with long strides, wrapping his hand around Ferdinand’s upper arm.

“ _Please_ wait.”

Whether his contact or words stayed Ferdinand’s exit, he couldn’t say. That he stopped was all that mattered. Only now that he had him, the sentences that could form an acceptable show of remorse had scattered. The wrong approach would seal his loathing, perhaps forever. Hubert could not afford to blindly grasp at words in a horrid mosaic of an apology. He needed a plan that would produce results.

“Well?” Ferdinand had a foot planted on the first step of the stairway, but it seemed his glower had softened. Wishful thinking, possibly. Hubert was not prone to it, but neither was he above it—even though he would have preferred that. “I am waiting, Hubert.”

His time was up. He had to respond or ensure failure through his inaction.

“When I first met you, I misread your enthusiasm for your title as the selfish ambition so rampant among nobility.”

It was not a pleasant confession, but a genuine one, and better than no answer besides. He was arguably primed to see corruption in Ferdinand due to Ludwig von Aegir’s involvement in the Insurrection especially. A son of his, in Hubert’s mind, would be of the same stock.

But to address that predisposition would raise questions. The Insurrection was recorded in history as a shift in power from the Emperor to the nobility and nothing further. Concealing the deaths of so many descendants of House Hresvelg was impossible, but the explanation was easily fabricated as some event unrelated to the betrayal. Any who knew the truth of it were in danger. It was too soon for that for Ferdinand, who was still finding his footing here at the monastery. He would realize the inconsistencies shortly after being told. The answers to them would expose him to greater risk.

No, Ferdinand couldn’t know the whole of it. Best not to mention it. Hubert’s regret for his earlier misstep could be made apparent without that information.

“To compensate for that mistake, I am only trying to protect you. When I arrange for others to keep their distance from you, it is for your sake that I do it.” Ferdinand’s arm relaxed, hopefully an indication that he was relieved rather than resigned. The look on his face had changed little. He watched Hubert, and Hubert observed him. They were at a stalemate.

Yet it was also true that results sometimes required a measure of guesswork, however detestable. That was Hubert’s inspiration to take two steps closer to Ferdinand and keep his hand around his arm.

“You are above their notice, Ferdinand. The only manner in which anyone could call you lacking is in self-preservation.” Not entirely true; he had his flaws just as anyone else did. But he knew about them, even fixated on them at times to the exclusion of his greater attributes. An unexpected and entirely unfair burden for so idealistic a person. That is not what Hubert said, naturally. “And tactfulness, I suppose, but that is beside the point.”

Ferdinand lowered his head with a sigh. Such a gesture didn’t bode well. Hubert wasn’t entirely certain what he anticipated, having just called him tactless in what was intended as an apology.

“It’s not what I wanted, but…” He looked up again and met Hubert with a heavy gaze. Somehow, it was only then that Hubert recognized the faint redness in his eyes from having cried so recently. “I admit, it is a concession from you. I am willing to compromise, Hubert.”

He was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that the reminder of Ferdinand’s sorrow pierced him with an unfamiliar sense of shame. Hubert had plunged to irredeemable moral lows in the name of Lady Edelgard, and he would do it all again countless times before her future was secured. If he lingered on the tasks that bloodied and stained his hands, he could be roused to shame—but even a passing thought at the suffering he caused Ferdinand was sufficient to stir it in him now.

Well. The only way was up, and Hubert had but to climb.

“And—when I said there could be no comparison, I didn’t mean it as—” Hm. Clearly, the journey out from under his disgrace was more complicated to navigate than he estimated. He gestured with his free hand to further emphasize the distinction he needed to make beyond doubt. “I would never compare Fire to Blizzard. Each spell has its own applications and merits that can’t be accurately measured against one another. As such, I have no cause to compare them. Just as I have no reason to do so with you and Lady Edelgard.”

The parallel was not impressive, that much was certain. It should be up to the task even so. Hubert permitted his pause to speak on his behalf, and Ferdinand took that opportunity to smile in somewhat unnerving comprehension. He understood, yes, but he had an idea of his own behind that contentment.

“Hubert,” he began, the upward lilt of his speech confirming his vague intent. Ferdinand stepped out of his grasp to better accompany that with posing in his typical noble fashion. With one gloved hand on his hip and the other brushing through waves of burnished hair, he deigned to continue. “Are you saying I have merits?”

“I am.” Hubert disliked the uncertainty of Ferdinand’s agenda, but he had to accept that fixating on that was counterproductive.

“Ones that are so separate from Edelgard’s that you cannot hope to compare them?”

“That is what I said.” Straining to sound less irritable with moderate success, he could only wait for Ferdinand to reach his point. Hubert narrowed his eyes to fight off a frown at the very thought. Awareness in advance was always preferable in all circumstances.

Few people looked so inconvenienced in the monastery gardens, he imagined. How fortunate that their solitude was undisturbed so close to the start of classes.

“Then you must know them well.”

“Pardon?”

He showed Hubert mercy by taking his hand from his hair, although with no shortage of theatricality, and gestured in his direction by way of explanation.

“To know they cannot be compared, you must be aware of the distinct merits for myself and Edelgard. I should very much like to hear what you consider my merits to be.”

Flushed pink despite his outward calm, Ferdinand rendered his blush contagious simply by being. Many attributes of Ferdinand were insufferably contagious. His unstoppable optimism and an undeniable vulnerability to his overbearing charm were known examples. His fluster was no exception, evidently. Hubert’s own face warmed as quite the unsettling development.

“I don’t know that I—”

“Not now, I think,” Ferdinand interrupted, suddenly bashful as he put his hand out to rest gently against Hubert’s chest. “Since we are so close to when the lecture begins. Perhaps you might put it in writing?”

His smile has half-hearted, or perhaps strictly lopsided, but sincere in the extent he could express it. Naturally. Ferdinand could hardly be anything but tactlessly honest.

“You want me to write a list of what I value in you, and hand it off to you to do with as you please?” That he asked was outlandish. That Hubert considered it viable was even more absurd. In the wrong hands, such a list would deal grave damage to his reputation as Edelgard’s guardian and covert spymaster—at the most minor severity. Were someone other than Ferdinand to obtain that list, it would reveal a crucial weakness of Hubert’s that could be effortlessly exploited. Ferdinand made a naïve and trusting target. Logically, he knew this.

But when had Hubert been one to surrender at the first obstacle? In time, he would find another path forward. Ferdinand could be sure of that.

“Yes! Thank you, Hubert.” He seemed flattered somehow, his joyous reaction reaching its full strength. As though he knew intrinsically what a challenge this posed and found the effort involved touching. He could not have, but it was rather easy to believe despite the sound reasoning.

Having decided for himself that Hubert agreed to this request in his incredulous response, Ferdinand would be difficult to convince otherwise. Not unless he wished to send him back to class either furious or glum and contend with the consequences of that, which he most assuredly did not. Several of the individual Black Eagles students were a handful on their own. Unite them together and factor in Lorenz, and even Hubert would fare poorly.

Ultimately, the stipulations were fair, considering Hubert publicly humiliated him. Ferdinand would never go public with such a letter and furthermore, guard it closely. Base deception was well below his mercilessly ethical standards.

“It’s nothing.”

Drawing his hand back to gesture to himself with aplomb, Ferdinand continued. “And naturally, you will leave my friends and romantic prospects be.”

His grimace was reflexive, and the answer wasn’t far behind.

“Hubert.”

Amazing, how a single given name could contain so many meanings communicated in the delivery of those syllables. Pleasure, discontent, patience, or a firm warning in this case… Ferdinand contained volumes. Far more than he was given credit for.

Hubert held fast to his stern expression in spite of it all and crossed his arms with innate precision. “At least allow me to offer advice when they are deceiving you.”

“A fair arrangement! I accept.” Ferdinand offered his hand to him as if they were discussing nothing more involved than a treaty or land agreement. “You are forgiven.”

Quicky as that, the altercation was behind them. Hubert would not pretend he didn’t realize how close he came to the exact opposite outcome. Abruptly, that line of thinking conjured memories of the enraged request from Ferdinand to have Hubert act on his own intentions. Toiling to find another means of achieving his objectives was unnecessary when he had been given direct instructions there. But he had scarce time to do so before they must return. Hubert took his hand and turned it so the back faced him. To his surprise, Ferdinand permitted it even as he bent forward to where the curve of his knuckles awaited his lips. He focused on that starry-eyed wonder from Ferdinand while he placed a kiss on his hand.

“Someone might see.”

He did not move. Ferdinand barely blinked. In a similar manner, Hubert kept eye contact with him as well.

“I know.” He stood tall once again and repositioned to hold his hand, slipping his fingers beneath his cuff and receiving a visible jump from Ferdinand for his efforts. His fingertips rested over his wrist. No mistake, that placement enabled him to feel a quickened pulse through his gloves. “Your heart is racing.”

“Oh, you be quiet!” That broke the spell. Ferdinand pulled his hand back and stomped up the steps. Hubert trailed a few paces behind, chuckling at his victory on both fronts.

“I’m not the one shouting.”

“We shall not be late for class,” Ferdinand diverted, refusing to so much as glance back. “But you and I will continue this discussion. Tonight. At our usual spot, I should think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who takes almost 3k words to successfully apologize? Hubert. Hubert von Vestra. It's all worth it to share the story, and any comments you send are so, so appreciated! It helps keep me inspired for the next roundabout emotional discussion from Hubert, haha.
> 
> Also, you can [follow me on Tumblr](https://jamblute.tumblr.com/) or [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/jamblute/) for more of my works and other things I enjoy!


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